


Oh Baby

by AlElizabeth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2018-10-01 10:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 16,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10187552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlElizabeth/pseuds/AlElizabeth
Summary: AU. A witch's curse de-ages Sam to infancy. Can Dean and Mary find a way to change him back to his proper age or will they be stuck as reluctant parents?





	1. One

"Shit," Dean swore under his breath as he lifted the tiny infant from the pile of his brother's clothing on the bedroom floor.

"Dean? What's wrong?" Mary called from down the hallway, quickly making her way down to her youngest son's room.

"Um… we have a little problem," Dean replied over his shoulder, cradling the naked infant to his chest.

"What-" Mary began but the rest of her question was cut short when she stepped into the doorway and Dean turned to her.

"Is that… Sammy?"

Dean nodded.

"Guess that witch got Sam as good as he got her."

Mary stepped into the room, her hands beginning to rise to take the infant from her eldest son. Her face, usually stern and sharp, was now surprisingly soft, her blue eyes wet with nostalgia.

Dean swallowed thickly and had to resist the urge to pull away as his mother reached for the baby. Sometimes it was hard to remember that he and Sam had only been little kids when their mother was killed.

Dean watched Mary for a second, smiling gently as the infant held onto one of her fingers with his tiny hand, his chest tightening, before clearing his throat.

"Sammy can't stay like this."

Mary lifted her gaze and frowned.

"I know that, Dean."

"And we don't know what curse this is so we don't have a lot of time," he reminded her.

"The witch is dead. How are we going to change Sam back?" Mary asked, stepping further into the room and taking a wool blanket from the end of her youngest son's bed to swaddle the baby in.

"Your new friends seem to know a lot about magic and spells," Dean suggested, watching his mother expertly fold the blanket to clothe the infant, "Maybe they'll have an idea."

Mary nodded.

"I'll call Mick."

W

Dean found himself pressing his infant brother close to his chest as Mary opened the Bunker's door to the Brit. The well-dressed Man of Letters stepped inside, his gaze going right to the baby in Dean's arms.

"You weren't joking," he muttered to himself.

"How do we fix this?" Dean asked, not wanting to waste valuable time by observing the niceties with the pompous Brit.

"We don't," Mick told them, a small smirk curling his lips.

"You can't or won't?" Dean snarled, glaring at the Man of Letters before peering down at his baby brother and bouncing him lightly in his arms.

"Mick, please," Mary spoke up, "Sam can't stay like this."

"You're right," the Brit agreed, "He can't but unless you know the spell that changed him, you two are, what is it you Americans say? Up the creek without a paddle?"

"You ass-" Dean began, stepping towards Mick but Mary held an arm out, barring her son from the Man of Letters.

"Is there no way?" she asked, trying not to beg.

For a brief moment Mick lost his smug persona and sighed, "Look, we could go through the list and see which spells could fix your son but without knowing the exact curse that's affecting him, it's a slim chance we'd be able to help. Besides, we could just as easily hurt him if we go messing willy-nilly with magic."

Mary stared at the Brit for a long moment before she nodded.

"We understand," she told him.

"I'm sorry," Mick replied, "But think of this as a good thing, both of you."

Dean glared daggers at the man.

"Once we clear the country of the monster threat, your brother can have a real chance of growing up with a normal life. Think about it, he can go to school, he'll never have to hunt… this is his second chance."

Dean looked away from the Brit to peer down at his brother, with his thatch of chestnut hair and wide hazel eyes.

A second chance, he thought.

"You're sure there's nothing you can do?"

The Man of Letters smiled at the two elder Winchesters.

"You two make a lovely couple."


	2. Two

"Why don't I go out?" Mary suggested.

Dean, still holding Sam, looked up.

"No, I can go. You stay with Sammy."

His mother smiled, "I think I know a bit more about what a baby needs than you, Dean."

The young man opened his mouth to argue when his brother began to fuss. Instead of starting a fight, he lifted Sam to his shoulder and patted the infant's back between the shoulder blades.

"You're okay, buddy," Dean murmured and when he looked up to speak to Mary again, she was gone.

Sighing, Dean shook his head, "Guess it's just you and me for a while."

Cradling the infant against his chest once more, Dean peered around the room.

"What do you feel like doing?"

Glancing down, Dean saw his brother yawn widely, hazel eyes half closed.

"A nap it is."

Walking down the hallway, Dean took his sibling to his bedroom, opened the lowest drawer in his dresser and shifted some of his clothes around before settling the infant in the makeshift bassinet. Crossing the room, the hunter sat down on his bed and put his headphones on, keeping the volume low so he would be able to hear his brother if he cried and laid back against his bed.

W

"Dean," a deep voice startled the hunter awake and he sat up instantly, pulling his headphones off.

"Cas!" he exclaimed with surprise, "What are you doing here? Did you find any info on Lucifer's baby mama?"

The angel didn't answer; instead his gaze was drawn to the open dresser drawer.

"Why is there an infant in your drawer?"

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his short hair.

"It's Sam."

Castiel's blue eyes widened in shock.

"What happened?"

"Witch cursed him," Dean explained quickly.

Standing, the hunter made his way towards his friend.

"Have you found Kelly yet?"

"Do you have a way to undo the curse?"

Dean shook his head, "No. We don't know what curse she used. Mick said it would be too dangerous to try and find out on our own."

The angel frowned, "What if we have someone with experience help us?"

"Who?" Dean asked but then answered his own question, "Not Rowena. She's not touching him."

"Dean," Cas spoke sternly yet not without sympathy, "Sam cannot stay like this. You know that."

Dean tried to argue, Mick's words echoing in his head, but the sad look on his friend's face stopped him.

"Yeah but… okay, we can try Rowena."

W

"I hope this is important," Rowena told the hunter and angel as she stepped into the Bunker, "You have no idea how busy I've been."

Dean tried not to glare at the witch, his grip on his brother tightening.

"Oh look at the wee lad!" Rowena exclaimed and stepped towards Dean, "What a bonny boy!"

The witch reached for the baby but Dean took a step back.

"Hands off my brother!" He snapped.

"Dean," Cas cautioned.

Rowena paused, her lips forming a smile.

"That's Sam Winchester? Whatever happened to him?"

Dean frowned, "A witch happened to him. She cursed him before he killed her and now he's a baby."

Rowena chuckled, "Well that's an interesting turn of events."

"Can you fix him or not?" Dean snarled.

The witch turned serious, "Give him here."

Reluctantly the hunter held out his baby brother to Rowena. The witch took the infant into her arms gently, cradling him carefully.

"It's been such a long time since I've held a baby," she murmured.

"How do we fix this?" Dean pressed.

"Did you see what happened when your brother was cursed?" Rowena asked, looking up at the hunter.

"Yeah," he replied, "the bitch had her eyes closed and she was muttering something- I couldn't hear it clearly- and she pointed at Sam with both hands and this purple cloud fell over him before it disappeared."

"When exactly did this happen?" she asked.

"We killed the witch yesterday morning and Sam ended up like this an hour- hour and a half- ago."

Instead of responding, Rowena held the infant towards his brother with both hands.

"I can't help you," she told the hunter.

Dean took his sibling, cradling him to his chest.

"You're a witch," Castiel interrupted, having been quiet throughout the exchange, "Surely there is a spell you could use to-"

"If the witch was alive maybe," she responded, "Maybe if your hunter friend knew exactly what she had said, if you had called me right away… maybe. But even then it would have been a long shot."

Dean glanced down at his sibling.

"Then Sammy will be like this forever?"

"Not a tot," Rowena commented, "No, that much I am sure of. He'll grow up just like any normal boy, but he can't be returned to his proper age through magic."

Castiel's frown deepened but Dean fought not to smile.

This was Sammy's second chance.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Rowena commented daintily, "I have places to be and things to do."

Moments after the witch had left the Bunker; the door opened again, this time to reveal Mary holding a number of bags of baby items.

"Did I miss something?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be kind and leave kudos or a positive comment!


	3. Three

Dean smiled at his mother, "Nah Mom, we're good."

Mary returned the gesture.

"Do you mind grabbing the rest of the bags? And there are a couple of boxes too!"

Dean's eyes widened, "There's more?"

Mary nodded, her smile faltering a bit, "If Sam's stuck like this we need everything we can get to take care of a baby."

Dean couldn't argue with that. He handed his brother to Cas- the angel looking slightly uncomfortable holding the infant Sam Winchester- and slipped out the door to bring the rest of the items inside.

W

"Look at this one!" Mary exclaimed happily as she held up a brown onsie with the picture of an orange fox on it.

Dean smiled politely. He snuck a glance at his watch and saw that they had been sitting at the table looking at baby clothes for ten minutes.

"How are you doing there, Cas?" He looked over his shoulder at the angel who was still holding the youngest Winchester.

The angel was walking back and forth across the floor; Sammy snuggled up to his chest, fast asleep.

Cas looked up at his friends.

"Let me know when you get tired of holding him," Dean chuckled, "I'll gladly take him off your hands."

"Dean," Mary drew his attention back to her, "What about this one?"

The hunter smiled at the green sweater and matching toque his mother held up.

"I'm sure Sammy will love it," he commented.

"What's wrong?" Mary asked, putting the outfit down.

Dean shrugged, "This just feels… weird."

Mary frowned, "I know. It feels weird to me too. Last time I saw you boys, you were only little… and now you're grown men… and now Sam's a baby again."

Dean smiled slightly.

"But Sammy will need formula and clothes and a place to sleep," Mary finished, ruining the moment a bit.

"He didn't complain about my dresser earlier," Dean joked.

"Dean, your brother is not sleeping in laundry."

The young man held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Just saying it would have saved you from buying an expensive new crib."

Mary shook her head in exasperation but she was smiling.

W

Dean stepped back and surveyed his handiwork.

The crib seemed sturdy enough to support a small infant without collapsing.

Sam, in Castiel's arms, gurgled happily, reaching out with both hands.

"He seems to like it," the angel commented.

Dean grinned, probably too proud of himself for his own good.

"Dean? Dean, where are you?" Mary called from further inside the Bunker.

"In here, Mom!" Dean shouted back and took his brother from Cas.

"Dean, I thought we agreed to set the crib up in my room, his mother complained, stepping into his room, an irritated expression on her face and her hands on her hips.

The younger hunter sighed, "I decided he should sleep with me since you're not here half the time anyway."

Mary's frown deepened, "Dean-"

"Mary, you are spending a great deal of time with the Men of Letters and Sam should not be alone," Cas replied logically.

The elder Winchester looked as though she wanted to make a snide remark, perhaps to tell the angel that was why they invented baby monitors, but she bit her tongue.

"Well… okay. You're right," she acknowledged.

"Did you get any blankets while you were out?" Dean asked, giving his mother a smug grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a moment to leave a comment or kudos if you are enjoying the story!


	4. Chapter 4

Dean hunched his shoulders defensively as Mary spoke from behind him.

Standing in front of the sink, the hunter carefully washed the new bottles his mother had purchased for her younger son earlier that day.

"Make sure you rinse all the soap out of them," Mary instructed as though this was Dean's first time cleaning baby bottles, "Or Sammy could get diarrhea."

"I know, Mom," Dean told her as he set the bottles in the drying rack.

"We don't want you getting sick. No we don't," Mary cooed to the baby and Sam laughed out loud.

"Are you boiling water?"

Dean sighed, "What's that?"

"I asked if you were boiling water," Mary repeated, "Sam shouldn't have tap water yet."

Dean pointed to the electric kettle sitting beside the stove, a red light on its heating plate indicating that the hunter was boiling water.

"I'm just making sure!" Mary exclaimed, sounding hurt.

"Mmhm," Dean muttered.

He wished Cas hadn't left but he knew that they needed to find Kelly Kline before she had her baby.

"What are you doing now?" Mary asked, her tone slightly nervous.

Dean turned around, bottle in one hand and dishtowel in the other.

"Drying," he replied brusquely, "Or am I doing that wrong too?"

Mary frowned, "Don't use that tone with me. I'm just trying to look out for your brother."

Dean sneered, he hadn't really noticed it before but it was really starting to irritate him whenever their mother called Sam by his nickname.

"Mom," Dean sighed, "I know you don't believe it, but I do know how to take care of a baby."

Mary nodded ever so slightly, "I know, but Sam's my son, I just don't to see him get hurt."

Dean's green eyes met his mother's, "And he's my little brother."

Mary smiled slightly, "I know."

W

"Don't check the temperature on your hand! Use your wrist!" Mary exclaimed, eyes wide and startled.

Dean took a step back from his mother; she looked ready to snatch the bottle out of his hand at a moment's notice.

"Would you please back off? I know what I'm doing," Dean asked through gritted teeth.

"Then use your wrist to make sure the formula's cooled down enough," Mary instructed slowly, equally irritated.

Dean raised his eyes to the ceiling in a 'God help me' gesture and then he did as asked and squirted some formula onto the inside of his wrist.

"Perfect," he announced and handed the bottle to Mary.

Now that Sam was getting fed, Dean turned back to the stove.

"You want grilled cheese?" he asked his mother.

When he didn't get a response Dean looked over his shoulder and saw that Mary had left with the baby.

W

"She's obsessed with him or something. It's really weird. She's starting to freak me out a bit," Dean told Cas over the phone as he sat eating a grilled cheese sandwich by himself.

"Do you think maybe the witch's curse affected Mom too?"

There was a pause as the angel gathered his thoughts.

"Dean, you must remember that the last time your mother saw you and your brother, you were children. Now you are grown men, adults, who are independent. You do not need your mother as you did when you were young. Mary must be feeling nostalgic now that Sam needs the two of you to do everything for him. She will want to be his mother."

Dean sighed.

"Try and help her, Dean. Don't exclude her from Sam's care."

"Okay, Cas. I'll try."

W

The hunter found his mother and brother in Mary's room. Mary was holding Sam to her shoulder, patting his back gently to encourage him to burp.

"Hey," Dean poked his head into the room and smiled, holding a grilled cheese sandwich, "Thought you might be hungry."

Mary smiled, "Thanks."

Stepping into the room, Dean sat down on the bed beside his mother, "Why don't I hold him while you eat?"

Mary handed Sam to his brother and picked up the saucer Dean had brought.

"You okay?" Dean asked as Mary took a bite of the grilled cheese.

"Hm?" she muttered, "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Dean cleared his throat, "Well, all this is kind of hard to digest."

Mary smiled, "This, this is second nature to me. Last time I saw you, you and Sammy were babies."

She paused, "Even in Heaven, with my memories, you were always little."

Dean nodded.

"I feel like I've had decades with you two as little ones," Mary continued, "I feel like I can do things right this time."

Mary smiled and took another bite of her sandwich; Dean though, did not return the gesture. Instead, a chill ran down his spine at his mother's words.

W

"Sammy's in bed," Mary announced as she stepped into the Bunker's main room, "Sleeping like a lamb."

Dean nodded and took a swig from his bottle of beer.

His mother sat down across from him and set a small blue baby monitor on the tale in front of her; a round green light below the speaker indicating it was on.

Dean shoved his second, unopened bottle of beer to his mom without a word. Mary twisted open the cap and raised the bottle in salute to her son.

"What did you mean earlier when you said that you feel like you could do things right this time?" Dean asked.

Mary raised an eyebrow, "What?"

Dean smiled without happiness, just a little.

He knew the reason Azazel had come for Sam all those years ago. He knew that at nineteen years of age, Mary Campbell had made a deal with the demon to bring her dead boyfriend back. He knew that Azazel had not asked for her soul as per usual but had told the young woman that he'd return for something of hers in ten years.

Dean knew that his mother had asked no questions, had not seemed concerned about what a demon would want if not her soul, just as long as John lived.

"Just… there are a lot of things about being a Mom I could do better this time," Mary smiled but it did not reach her eyes.

Dean nodded but didn't respond.

W

Deep night fell over the Bunker and found all three Winchesters in their beds. Mary reclined on her front, arms shoved beneath the pillow; the same way her eldest son preferred to sleep. Sam slumbered soundly in his crib beside his brother's bed, tiny thumb tucked into his mouth, eyes closed gently.

Dean lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, thoughts chasing themselves through his head. He loved his mother, of that there was no doubt, but her decision to make a deal with a demon couldn't help but get under his skin, even after all these years. Dean knew why she had made her deal with Azazel, it was the same reason he had made his own deal to bring Sam back.

But he had known what he was getting into.

Mary hadn't known what the demon would want upon his return when he came to collect ten years into the future. She hadn't even prepared for Azazel's visit. Dean knew she hadn't wanted him and Sam to grow up as hunters but the least she could have done was protect her family from the monster she knew would come back.

Sitting up in his bed, Dean peered into the crib where his brother slept and smiled.

"Don't worry, Sammy," he whispered, "I won't let anyone hurt you."

He paused for a second before speaking again, "Anyone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how much Dean and Sam actually know about Mary's deal with Azazel, I know they went back in time on at least two occasions and did encounter old Yellow Eyes when they did go into the past. This though, is an AU, so I apologize if there are any hardcore fans that want to point out just how much the brothers know about their mother and Azazel.
> 
> Please take a moment and leave Kudos if you're enjoying!


	5. Five

Mary looked up, surprised when her cell phone went off in her pocket the next morning. Holding her youngest son, she hesitated to answer the device.

"Gonna get that?" Dean asked.

Mary nodded. She rested Sam against her shoulder and dug her phone out of her pocket.

"It's Mick," she glanced at the Caller ID.

"Answer it," Dean encouraged, taking a sip of his coffee.

Mary put the phone to her ear.

"Yes… Yes…No, I'm not…Okay…Okay, sure."

Ending the call, she met her eldest son's gaze.

"Mick needs my help," she told Dean simply.

The younger hunter nodded and reached out to take his brother.

"Come here, little guy."

Mary pulled back and kissed the infant on top of his head. Dean lowered his arms.

"Mom, we'll be here when you get back."

Mary looked up and smiled, "I know. I just needed to do that in case I don't come back."

Dean didn't smile.

SPN

Sammy fussed in his older brother's arms. Dean glanced down at the baby.

"That's right buddy, we didn't finish breakfast."

Closing the door to the Bunker, Mary's car was gone from the gravel parking area and down the road past the hunter's line of vision anyway, Dean walked down the steps and towards the kitchen.

W

Sammy squealed happily as his brother made silly face for him, the hunter trying hard not to crack up himself.

Although it had been many years since Dean had done this kind of play with his brother, he felt as though it had been only yesterday.

Some of Dean's happiest memories were the ones when his brother had been an infant; chubby, carefree and innocent. Before real lift had reared its ugly head and play had become a commodity the young Winchester boys could no longer afford.

Holding his baby brother under the arms, Dean pressed Sammy's belly against his lips and blew a raspberry against the cloth of his onesie. The infant squealed again, his laughter infectious. Dean grinned, truly happy for the first time in a long time, all his worries a million miles away at the moment.

"Dean," a deep voice from behind the hunter startled him and he whipped around to see Castiel.

"Jesus! Don't do that!" the hunter snapped, cradling his baby brother.

The angel gave him an apologetic look, "I'm sorry."

Dean smiled, "No harm done. What's up? Found any information on Kelly Kline yet?"

The angel shook his head, "No, unfortunately. I just wanted to see how you and Mary were getting along with Sam."

"Well," Dean began, "Mom's off helping out the Men of Letters so its just Sammy and me."

Castiel didn't reply. Instead, his expression turned troubled.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked.

Sam, cradled in his arms, began to fuss, waving his arms and babbling with irritation. Sighing, his brother gently bounced him up and down and the infant quieted.

"Your mother's alliance with the Men of Letters is concerning."

Dean rolled his eyes, "I know that. But I can't tell her 'no', can I?"

Castiel ignored the question and continued, "They claim to have good intentions but-"

"But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, right Sammy?" Dean interrupted, talking to his brother.

"I was going to say that their methods are questionable," Cas replied.

Dean looked up at his friend, "As long as they keep me and Sam out of it, I don't much care what they do."

The angel's blue eyes met the hunter's green ones and with the soft sound of fluttering wings, vanished from the Bunker.

Dean stared at the spot vacated by Cas for a moment before sniffing the air and lifting his baby brother up, sniffing again.

"Oh Sammy, warn me next time!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a moment to leave Kudos if you're enjoying! It would be greatly appreciated :)


	6. Six

Dean looked up as the main door to the Bunker opened and Mary stepped inside. Closing the door behind her, she slumped against it for a brief moment, her eyes shut before opening them again and making her way down the steps.

"How'd it go?" Dean asked, sitting in the shadows- the overhead lights turned down for the night- and startled Mary visibly.

"I didn't see you there," she told him, "why are you sitting in the dark?"

Dean shrugged, "Just thinking."

Mary didn't respond. Though she hadn't known her sons as grown men for long, she didn't see Dean as the brooding type.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, moving closer to her eldest son, uneasy about him being shrouded in darkness.

Dean didn't speak for a moment. He raised one hand and ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair.

"The future…Sammy…His future."

Thinking that Dean was beginning to regret not pressing to find a way to reverse the curse on his brother, Mary spoke up.

"You heard what Mick said; we don't know what spell changed Sam. We could end up seriously hurting him if-"

Dean held up a hand and Mary stopped.

"I know what he said, Mom. You know there is no freaking way I'd hurt Sammy but… I am worried about him."

Mary nodded and approached her eldest, taking his raised hand in one of hers.

"I know, Dean," she murmured, ""But we'll get through this somehow. We always do."

She offered an encouraging smile. Dean didn't smile back, instead opening his mouth as though he was about to speak again when a cry cut through the silence.

"Sammy," Dean announced and stood, leaving Mary to sit alone in the Bunker's main room while he went to see his sibling.

SPN

Mary sat down in Dean's vacated chair and sighed. Thinking about what the Man of Letters had told them, she knew they had made the right decision not to play around with spells with the small possibility that one might change Sam back to his proper age. And, if Mary was completely honest with herself, she didn't want her youngest son to be an adult again. She had barely had the chance to be a mother to her boys before she was taken away from her family and did not want to lose this golden opportunity to raise her youngest child, as she should have.

Dean may be Sam's older brother but she was his mother and she knew more about children than her eldest son did. Dean didn't even have any children of his own to show of his "parenting skills". No, Dean thought he knew how to take care of a baby but he didn't, not like Mary did.

SPN

"Hey buddy, what's wrong?" Dean murmured as he reached into the crib and lifted his weeping brother.

The infant opened his hazel eyes and began to cry harder.

Frowning, the hunter laid the baby against his shoulder and began rubbing Sam's back.

"It's okay," Dean whispered, "I've got ya."

The sound of footsteps alerted the hunter to Mary's approach. She remained standing in the doorway for a moment, her green eyes tracking her son's movements, before stepping into the room.

"Give him to me, Dean," she stated, "I can get him to stop crying."

Her eldest son turned away from her casually, "I can do it, Mom."

Mary frowned, a small vertical line forming between her eyebrows, "He's my baby."

"You've just got back from hunting," Dean told her, "Why don't you take a hot shower and get some rest? You look like you could use it."

Mary's expression turned stormy, "I want to hold my baby, Dean."

The younger hunter looked up, startled by his mother's tone.

"Okay," he replied and handed Mary the crying infant.

The boys' mother cradled the baby in her arms and cooed to him.

"He's probably just a little gassy," Dean told her over the sound of Sam's cries.

Mary lifted the child to her shoulder and began patting his back.

For a moment or two, nothing happened; Sam continued to cry, than suddenly the infant let out a wet burp and sighed, nestling his head against Mary's shoulder.

"See Dean, he just needed a mother's touch," Mary told her eldest son, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"I could have done that," Dean muttered as Mary laid the baby back into the crib.

"I think I'll take that shower now," Mary said, "Have a good night."

Dean nodded and watched her leave the room before peering into his sibling's crib. Sam lay on his back, his eyes already drooping with sleep.

Sighing, Dean reached out to close his bedroom door before sitting on the end of his bed. As he stared at the crib, a chill ran down his spine but he dismissed it and turned out the lamp on the nightstand before laying down in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a moment to leave kudos or a comment.   
> Hey ladies and gents! I'm back from my hiatus. I have moved into my new apartment, have an Internet connection and can finally start writing my stories again! Thank you all for your patience and I hope to see you for the next chapter.


	7. Seven

Dean opened his eyes and instantly felt as though something was off. Ignoring the feeling, Dean sat up, speaking as he did so, "Hey, Sammy, what do you say you and I-"

As the hunter's gaze lit upon the crib at his feet, he stopped mid-sentence, his heart jumping into his throat.

The crib was empty.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, his eyes darting around the crib before raking across his room as though he believed his brother had climbed out while he'd been asleep; an impossibility for an infant who could not even crawl much less walk.

"Sammy!" Dean called, louder now and frowned when he saw that his bedroom door was ajar. He was certain he'd closed it before going to sleep, after Mary had left the room.

"Mom," Dean said under his breath and stood, stalking into the hallway in his pajamas - just an old pair of sweat pants- and nothing else.

"Mom!" Dean called, now able to discern faint sounds through the pounding of blood in his ears.

Striding down the hallway, Dean passed through the Bunker's main room and into the kitchen where Mary stood above Sam sitting in the new highchair she had bought for him, a jar of baby food in her hand and a spoon on its way to her son's open mouth.

"What the hell?" Dean snapped, startling Mary.

"Language!" his mother said in a warning tone and pushed the spoonful of pureed yams into Sam's mouth.

"No, Mom," Dean growled, "What the hell are you doing?"

The huntress stopped what she was doing and her green eyes met her eldest son's with just as much fire.

"I'm giving Sam breakfast," she told him in clipped tones.

"I can see that," Dean commented sarcastically, "I mean what are you doing taking Sammy out of his crib without me knowing it?"

"I was awake and went to check on Sammy," Mary explained carefully, "He was up so I brought him in here for some breakfast."

Mary scooped up another spoonful of yams for Sam.

"I don't know why you're getting so upset, Dean," she continued, looking at her baby and not her eldest, "You know it's just the three of us here. Who else would have taken Sam out of his crib?"

Carefully placing another spoonful of sweet potatoes into the infant's waiting mouth, the mother looked at her firstborn.

"Sam is your brother, yes," she told Dean, "But he's my baby. Mine, Dean. I'm his mother."

Dean's mouth moved as though he wanted to speak. He paused before growling, "Just tell me next time, all right?"

Mary nodded but didn't respond otherwise, picking up Sam's bib to wipe yam drool from his chin.

Turning away, Dean poured himself a mug of coffee and sat down at the table on the other side of the high chair, watching his mother feed his brother moodily.

Mary had no idea. She didn't know what he'd done for Sammy all the years they'd had to grow up without her. Dean had been the one to feed Sammy and clean him and dress him and teach him to walk and talk and take him to school and give him advice about girls and be the shoulder to cry on when he had his heart broken.

She had no fucking idea and she didn't give a damn.

Just because she gave birth to Sam she thought it meant she was better at taking care of him than Dean.

A thin cry distracted the hunter from his fuming thoughts and he looked up to see Mary trying to shove a spoonful of yams into the baby's mouth.

"He likes it better if you mix things up a bit," Dean stood and grabbed a jar of applesauce from the counter and twisted off the lid. Taking the spoon from his mother, he dipped the spoon right into the jar and before holding it out to his brother.

Sam paused in his fussing long enough for Dean to put the spoon in his mouth, the baby waving his arms and kicking his feet.

Smiling, Dean offered him two more spoonfuls of apple before switching to yams and then repeating the process.

Mary said nothing, but there was a thin, vertical line between her eyes as they tracked her eldest son's hand from applesauce jar to the baby's mouth to the yam jar and back to the baby's mouth.

W

"I didn't know to do that," Mary said as Sam lay nestled against her shoulder, full and content, giving her a chance to have her own coffee.

Dean shrugged as though it wasn't a bit deal.

"You left just as Sammy turned six months," he replied casually, "So Dad and I had to figure out this stuff on our own. Or rather I had to while Dad obsessed over your murder."

"You talk as though I abandoned you willingly," Mary commented, taking a sip of coffee, "You know I didn't."

"Didn't you?" Dean asked, green eyes peering over the rim of his own coffee mug.

His mother set her mug down, "All I wanted was a normal life… a life without monsters. I didn't want you and Sam to grow up the same way I had."

Dean snorted, interrupting her for a moment. She frowned but then continued.

"I wanted to be able to wait for you at the bus stop when you cam home from school, I wanted to go to PTA meetings, I wanted to go to your Little League games… watch you graduate from High School… get married and-"

"Then why didn't you do anything?" Dean interrupted, almost growling the words.

"What do you mean?" Mary asked, looking truly taken aback.

"What I don't understand is," Dean began, "Okay, you wanted a normal life, I get that, but you know about Azazel, you knew he was coming back and you did nothing. You knew all about demons and yet there was no salt, no Devil's Traps, nothing to protect Sammy."

Mary's eyes narrowed, "I didn't know what Azazel wanted."

"That doesn't make it better!" Dean exclaimed, "If he wanted your soul you still didn't try to stop him! We'd still be where we are today!"

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to apologize and say how sorry I am?" Mary snapped, angry that her own son was scrutinizing her in this way.

"NO!" Dean yelled, startling Sammy who began to cry, "I want to know why! Why, after everything you knew, you still did nothing? Were you so invested in your normal life that you didn't even bother to protect your family?"

Mary's hand snaked out so fast that Dean didn't even see it. What he felt though was the sharp sting of the flat of her palm against his cheek.

Refusing to let her know she had hurt him, Dean didn't even flinch, despite the water welling in his eyes.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," Mary snarled, "I don't have to explain any of it to you."

Dean didn't respond for a long time, the red mark of his mother's handprint glowing on his cheek like a brand.

"You think you had it bad, growing up as a hunter?" he said quietly, his throat tightening at the memories, "You have no idea what Dad was like after you died. He wasn't the man you remember."

"Dean-" Mary began; she didn't want to hear this, didn't want her warm memories of the man she's married tarnished.

But her eldest shook his head, "You know what, screw this. I doubt you'd believe me if I told you everything about Dad anyway."

Mary said nothing. Dean drained his coffee cup and stood. Without another word he turned and left the kitchen.

SPN

Mary slow danced around the Bunker's kitchen, one of Sam's tiny hands held gently in her own, humming.

"You don't care about the past, do you?" She murmured to the infant and nuzzled her face against his neck. The baby squealed laughter.

Pursing her lips, Mary blew a raspberry against Sam's neck and the baby laughed even harder.

Chuckling, Mary blew a second raspberry, relishing the happy sounds her youngest son made.

Before she could continue, however, her phone trilled and vibrated in her pocket. Sighing, Mary pulled the cell out and checked its Caller ID. It was Mick.

Answering it, her good mood dried up quickly.

"What do you want?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave Kudos or a Comment.


	8. Eight

Mick met Mary as soon as she stepped into the Men of Letters' American headquarters.

The huntress was in a sour mood and it must have been clear on her face because the Brit almost looked taken aback as she stalked inside.

"Not used to having a baby anymore?" he asked, clearly trying to lighten to mood.

"Sam's fine," Mary snapped, "Its Dean I'm butting heads with."

The Man of Letters smiled in mock sympathy and Mary wished she hadn't said anything.

"Don't get me started," she growled as she followed Mick down the hallway.

"I wasn't going to say anything," he replied innocently.

The woman sighed, "You're sure there's no way to change Sam back?"

Mick stopped, "I thought you liked having Sam as a baby."

"I do," Mary replied cautiously, "But Dean's very protective… possessive over him and I can't seem to do anything right in his eyes."

"That's something you need to discuss with him, Mary," Mick told her, "Besides, we aren't the kind of people to go playing around with magic. Remember, we're the ones who exterminate witches, not take lessons from them."

The female hunter nodded, "I know, it's just frustrating."

"Well," Mick answered, "You should remember where Dean is coming from as well. You were dead for most of his life; he was the one who raised Sam."

"What about John?" Mary snapped, "He's their father; I'm sure he did more than Dean let's on."

Mick just shrugged.

"Again, something you need to discuss with your son."

Mary sighed and pulled her blonde hair back into a tight ponytail. As she did so, she pushed all thoughts of Dean and Sam from her mind. She needed to focus on the task at hand and her sons would be nothing but a distraction at the moment.

Mick punched a code into a keypad beside the door they paused in front of and it slid open with a slight whoosh sound. Stepping into the room, they were greeted by Arthur Ketch sitting in front of Mick's desk.

"Hello Mary," the Man of Letters greeted in a smooth, even tone, "Welcome back."

With a nod to the man, Mary took a seat in the chair beside his, Mick moving behind his desk.

"Let's get started," he told them.

SPN

"Should I tell her, Sammy?" Dean cradled his brother tenderly in his arms, rocking the infant to sleep, "Should I tell her about Dad? The real Dad?"

The baby yawned toothlessly and Dean smiled.

"You're right," the older brother continued, "She just wants to imagine he was the greatest thing since sliced bread."

Sam's eyes began closing to the comforting rhythm of his brother's rocking.

"I know I should let her keep thinking that way," Dean thought out loud, "But… But damn it, I just want to make her understand where I'm coming from, you know? I want her to know how he was never there… how he wasn't there to help you learn to walk, or talk, or toilet train… how all he cared about was hunting and finding Azazel and teaching us the same thing."

Dean paused; his brother was fast asleep now.

"I want to tell her about when he'd drink too much… how sometimes there wasn't enough money for food… how we didn't have winter clothes…"

The hunter shook his head, trying to dislodge the unpleasant memories.

"I wonder how much you remember?" Dean peered down at his brother, "Do you remember being a kid? Going to Stanford, meeting Jessica? Do you remember everything?"

Sam, of course, didn't respond.

Walking slowly to his bedroom, Dean hummed a rock song quietly to his slumbering sibling before laying the baby into his crib.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, eyes on his brother, the hunter propped his chin up with his fist and allowed his thoughts to wander.

SPN

"You're distracted," Ketch told Mary as the huntress stabbed a rawhead, the creature's bloodcurdling screech cut off as the woman's blade sliced through its throat.

Stepping over the dead monster, Mary eyed Ketch.

"Is it that obvious?"

One side of Ketch's mouth turned up slightly.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Brushing a stray lock of hair away from her eyes, Mary sighed.

"Let me deal with it, okay?" she asked, "Give me another one."

Ketch shook his head, his hand on the switch that would open the trapdoor in the floor of the room and release another rawhead for Mary to kill.

"Not until you talk," he told her.

"Why do you care what's bothering me?" she asked, "You don't seem like the kind of man who talks about his feelings."

"I don't want to talk about my feelings," he replied, "But if whatever's on your mind keeps interfering with your hunting, then we are going to have problems. Surely you know how dangerous it is to not be fully focused on your prey?"

Mary hesitated for a moment before nodding. That was one thing her father had drilled into her since she'd been old enough to accompany him on hunts. Don't think about anything but the monster: nothing else matters. No homework, no friends, no dates, nothing but the creature you had to stop. Anything else could lead to disaster.

"Fine," Mary relented, "It's Dean."

Ketch raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"He's obsessed with Sam."

"Well, that's nothing new," the Man of Letters chuckled. Mary ignored him.

"He doesn't think I can take care of Sam as well as he can," Mary felt her face flushing with indignation as she spoke. Whatever Ketch may be, he appeared to listen with genuine interest in what she was telling him.

"But I'm Sam's mother!" she nearly snarled, as though Ketch was the offending party, "I know how to care for my own baby!"

"Have you," Ketch hesitated, "Tried talking to Dean?"

Mary shook her head, "There is no talking to Dean. He won't listen to me. He just gets pissed off when I try to tell him something about caring for babies."

"I just wish Dean could understand where I'm coming from," she continued, "But he won't… He probably never will."

"What if you could change Sam back to his proper age?" Ketch ventured, that strange half-smile back on his face.

"What are you talking about, Arthur?" Mary asked, "Mick said you couldn't do that."

Ketch's grin grew, "That's because Mick is a bit of a goody-two-shoes. Doesn't want to get into trouble with the higher ups, afraid he'd be… fired…"

Mary was only half-listening to what the Man of Letters was saying.

"You're telling me you can fix Sam?" she asked.

Ketch looked insulted, "Come on Mary, you didn't think we'd eradicate all the witches in the kingdom without keeping a bit of their knowledge of ourselves, now did you?"

Mary looked down at the knife she was holding, a combination dagger and Taser with an electrical charge that made it easier and safer for the hunter using it to kill rawheads without putting himself in danger of electrocution.

The huntress looked up at the Man of Letters, her green eyes flashing, "Tell me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave Kudos or a Comment! Either would be much appreciated!


	9. Nine

"How is the recruitment of the American hunters going?" Hess asked Mick, sitting behind the Man of Letters' desk and forcing him to take the seat that had been occupied by Arthur Ketch mere hours earlier.

"We are making progress," he told her carefully.

"How so?" she asked, seeing right through his attempt to placate her with vague reassurances.

"We have a half-dozen Americans on our side, including Mary Winchester," Mick told her.

"What about Sam and Dean?" Hess asked, her mouth turned down in a thin-lipped frown.

"Well…" Mick hesitated; he did not want to be the one to tell Hess what had happened.

"What have those two bumbling fools done now?" Hess pressed, eyeing Mick with displeasure.

"They ran afoul of a witch," Mick explained, "A few days ago."

The Man of Letters steeled himself to tell his superior what had happened to the youngest Winchester.

"Sam Winchester was cursed," he closed his eyes, imagining Hess' face growing red with anger, "And now he's a baby."

"What?!" Hess snapped and Mick opened his eyes in case she was going to throw something at him.

The Man of Letters nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Bringing her hand to her brow, Hess growled, "Those idiots!"

"We shouldn't worry about Sam and Dean," Mick swallowed, his throat clicking, "They weren't really on board anyway. We have Mary. She's respected. The American hunters will listen to her."

"We had Sam!" Hess snapped and stood. Mick unconsciously shrank back, "And he brought his brother into the fold! Now what do we have?"

"Mary," Mick squeaked.

"And five other Americans!" Hess shouted, "This isn't going as quickly as we had expected! This is a shambles!"

Suddenly the door opened to reveal Lady Bevell ending a call on her cell phone, "Tell him I'll be home as soon as I can, would you, Anna?"

Looking up, it was clear she did not expect to see Hess in Mick's office. Quickly ending her call, she shoved her phone into the pocket of her dress pants.

"Dr. Hess," Toni greeted coolly.

"Antonia," Hess gave a slight smile, "How is Peter?"

"He's doing well," Toni replied, "Thank you for asking."

"Antonia," Hess continued, "Were you aware of the state of the Winchester family at this moment?"

"No," she raised one thin eyebrow at Mick, "What is their state?"

"Sam Winchester is an infant," Hess told her without preamble.

Toni smiled, "I know the brothers are childish but-"

"A witch cursed him. He is now a baby," Hess continued and Toni's smile drooped.

"Than he is no longer of use to us," Lady Bevell commented, sounding disappointed.

The Winchester brothers, however crude they may be, were prolific in the hunting community and Sam, at least, had seemed to believe them when they spoke of a world without monsters. He and Mary forced Dean's decision to work with them. They may have had something with the Winchester family on board with their plans but now, it seemed as though that was falling apart.

Hess, much unlike her, peered down at Mick's desk, moving a glass paperweight with her index finger, thinking so that her two subordinates could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

Slowly, a conniving smile spread across Dr. Hess' face, doing absolutely nothing to improve her hard demeanor.

"Davies, leave us alone," she ordered Mick without turning her head to look at him.

"But this is my off-" he started but was interrupted when Hess screamed.

"Get out!"

Not needing to be asked a third time, Mick jumped out of his chair as though he had received an electric shock and brushed past Lady Bevell on his way out the door, tail between his legs.

"Am I to assume you have plans for the Winchesters?" Toni asked Hess, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

The older woman nodded.

"Sit down, Antonia," Hess gestured to Mick's vacated seat.

SPN

The spell to change Sam back to his proper age did not seem all that difficult. The ingredients should be easy enough to find- thyme, baby's breath flowers, three white candles… and blood- but it was the final ingredient, the blood of the cursed individual, which would be the most difficult to procure. Not because it would be hard to find but because the thought of hurting her baby made Mary nauseous, even if it was meant to help him return to his proper age.

"You shouldn't need a great deal of blood," Arthur told her, smiling that lopsided grin of his, "Just enough drops to add up to his proper age."

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Mary growled at him.

In order to help bring Sam back to his rightful age, Mary would need enough blood for thirty-four drops.

"You're the one who demanded I tell you the spell," Ketch reminded her, "You don't have to do it, you know."

Mary shook her head, "No, Sam needs to be an adult again. This isn't going to work with him as a baby. I can't keep fighting with Dean about this."

"You could always leave them," Arthur suggested, "You are more than welcome to stay here, with us."

Mary frowned. Even with all the arguing she and Dean were doing recently, she couldn't abandon her sons.

"Sam needs me," she told Ketch.

"Soon enough he won't," Arthur reminded her, "When the spell is complete. He'll be a grown man again. Too old to be mothered."

Mary flinched but did not argue.

"I need to think about this," she muttered. She knew that the right thing would be to change Sam back but she couldn't deny that she was enjoying having him as a helpless infant that she could care for. It had been so long since she had seen her boys. Yes she had had her memories of them in Heaven, but this was different. She could actually watch Sam grow up now, guide him and nurture him as she was meant to. Or, she could use the spell Ketch had given her and undo the curse, return Sam to his proper age and watch as both he and Dean drew farther and farther away from her.

Arthur shrugged, "It's your decision."

Tucking the instructions for the spell into the inside pocket of her jacket, Mary nodded once.

"Let's go kill some rawheads."

SPN

"Dean?!"

The hunter raised his head when he heard the sound of his mother's voice from the entrance to the Bunker but did not go to greet her.

"In the bathroom!" he replied, gripping his baby brother carefully to help him sit upright as Sam splashed in the warm water inside the bathtub.

"What are you doing?" Mary's voice asked, coming closer.

"We got into a bit of a mess," Dean told her, "So I decided to give Sammy a bath."

His mother didn't respond for a moment and Dean knew she was looking at the onesie sitting on the counter, smeared with baby poop.

Mary crouched down beside Dean and lowered one hand to the water, flicking it gently at Sam. The baby squealed happily, kicking his legs.

Dean knew his Mom was trying to catch his eye but he ignored her.

"Okay little guy," he murmured to his brother, "That's enough. Don't want you wrinkling up too much."

Chuckling, he lifted the baby from the water and grabbed a towel off the bar beside the tub.

"I can do that, Dean," Mary reached out for Sammy but her elder son shook his head.

"I've got him."

A heated retort pushed itself to the tip of Mary's tongue but she clenched her teeth to prevent the words from escaping and starting yet another argument about how could care for Sam better.

Instead she watched as Dean dried the baby, tickling the infant's toes as he did so and making Sammy laugh.

"Why don't you start dinner?" Dean asked and Mary's eyes widened for a split second before she nodded and left the room, hands clenched into fits, biting her tongue to stop from yelling at her son.

SPN

Dean said nothing when Mary set the pot brimming with boxed macaroni and cheese on the table.

Instead, he dug the serving spoon right in and slopped the noodles into his bowl with gusto, squeezing ketchup on top.

"Thanks Mom," he said, "This is great."

He sounded sincere.

Mary sat down across from him and took a portion of the pasta.

Sam, sitting beside Dean in a high chair, stared at the pot with an almost longing expression, his tiny hands forming fists around the slices of apple his brother had peeled and cut up for him.

"Sorry Sammy," Dean spoke through a mouthful of macaroni and cheese, "Can't have this until you're older. The chemicals could give you ADHD or something."

Mary laughed, almost choking on her dinner when a piece of apple went flying and hit Dean in the side of the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave Kudos if you're enjoying this story!


	10. Ten

Mary cradled her youngest son tenderly in her arms, humming a lullaby to him as Dean snored away in his bed.

The baby was quiet, ready to sleep, but Mary did not want to put him into his crib just yet.

While Dean was awake, she didn't get much of a chance to interact with the infant, so with her eldest sawing logs only a few feet away, Mary was going to take full advantage of this golden opportunity.

She had been battling within herself about whether she should use the spell Ketch had given her. Before coming back to the Bunker she had been ready to reverse the curse, but after managing to not dissolve into an argument with Dean, Mary was on the fence.

Maybe the fighting would pass and they would come to an arrangement of sorts that benefited both of them. This was all new to both her and Dean, of course, so it was only fair that there would be tension.

Besides, when she looked into the innocent, curious hazel gaze of her youngest son, Mary didn't think she could go back to the sad, haunted expression that Sam's eyes held when he was an adult.

No, Mary would not use the spell Ketch had given her and work things out with Dean.

Smiling, at peace with her decision, Mary lowered Sam down into his crib and waited until his eyes had closed before retreating to her own bedroom for the night.

SPN

"Hey Sammy," Dean rolled over onto his side so that he was facing his brother's crib, "What's up?"

He had been woken by the sound of the infant whimpering but as soon as he spoke, the baby calmed down. Still, needing to know that his sibling was all right, Dean sat up and reached into the crib, picking Sam up carefully.

Laying the baby against his shoulder, Dean patted Sam's diaper to check if it was wet.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Dean asked in a whisper, wondering if babies could have nightmares and if so, what were they about.

With his cheek resting against Dean's shoulder, Sam let out a contented sigh and the older brother smiled.

"I won't let anything bad happen to you, Sammy," he murmured, "You know that."

SPN

"Dean?" Mary eased her eldest son's bedroom door open slowly early the next morning, mug of coffee in her hands. She was tired. She hadn't been able to sleep through the night despite her decision to not use the spell Ketch had given her.

Peering into Dean's room now, Mary couldn't help the smile that crossed her face at the sight of her eldest son laying on his back while Sam lay on his stomach on Dean's chest, his brother's hand placed gently over him to ensure he didn't slip off while they both slept.

Biting her tongue, Mary began to pull the door shut when Dean responded to her without opening his eyes.

"Yeah Mom?"

"Coffee's ready," she responded and left the door ajar, heading back to the Bunker's main room.

SPN

Dean smiled at his little brother dressed in a light yellow onesie with an orange duck's beak on the hood so it looked as though the infant was wearing a costume.

He had to admit; his Mom had picked out some pretty cute clothes for Sam to wear, very different from John's choices the first time around.

"C'mon Sammy, let's go get some coffee," Dean laid the infant against his shoulder and headed down the hallway, his brother babbling happily in his ear.

SPN

"C'mon Sammy," Mary pleaded, "You love rice pudding."

The infant turned his face away from the pureed dessert pudding his mother held out to him on a spoon.

Dean, watching as he drank from a mug of coffee, smirked but said nothing.

Mary tried to spoon the pudding into Sam's mouth but only ended up smearing it across his chin.

Sighing, the huntress looked at her older son, "Can you do this better than I can?"

Dean smiled, "I'll give it a try."

Standing, he took the spoon from Mary and sat down in her seat, "All right, Sam, let's get some breakfast into you."

Dean was unsuccessful on his first attempt to spoon rice pudding into his brother's mouth but he persisted.

"I know you like this stuff," Dean told him, "Don't lie."

Mary watched silently as Dean continued to hold a one-sided conversation with Sam until the infant finally opened his mouth slightly, allowing his brother to shove the spoon past his lips.

The baby looked surprised for a moment but then swallowed the sticky concoction and squealed delightedly.

"I don't know how you do it, Dean," Mary admitted.

"Here," Dean handed her the spoon, "You should be able to get him to eat now."

Mary took the spoon from Dean and scooped some of the pudding onto it, bringing it to Sam's mouth. The baby ate willingly, waving his arms around, half of the puree going into his stomach while the other half dribbled down his front.

SPN

Dean knew that it bothered his mother that Sam was more comfortable with him than with her and he hated to admit it but that knowledge gave him a sense of smug satisfaction.

He knew he wasn't really being fair to Mary, but she seemed content to undermine the relationship he and Sam had built over the years. Not only did their bond have foundations in the fact that Dean, for much of Sam's early life, had been both brother, father and mother for his sibling but also the trials and tribulations that had plagued their adult lives. Both he and Sam had made some grave mistakes, but they had each, in his own way, sucked it up and strived to repair the damage they caused, either with knowledge or inadvertently. Both he and Sam had had his hand in jumpstarting the Apocalypse and still carried that guilt. They had both been tortured in Hell. They had seen friends die for trying to help them. They could both count on the fingers of one hand, the number of victories, great and small, to their names.

Dean liked to believe he knew his brother better than anyone else and he felt that Sam knew him the best as well. Dean couldn't live without his brother and, though Sam might deny it, he didn't think his brother could survive without him either.

Mary, who had been gone- dead- for the majority of their lives, reliving her memories over and over in her Heaven, still viewed her sons as she remembered them: little boys who needed and relied upon her. That could not be further from the truth. But it seemed that she continually refused to see her sons for who they were.

Dean almost felt sorry for his mother. Almost.

SPN

Mary cradled Sam close to her chest as she finished the last of her coffee. The infant kicked his feet and flapped his arms, drooling and babbling away contentedly.

Reaching up, Sam grabbed a lock of Mary's blonde hair and pulled on it gently, making his mother laugh.

Dean watched from across the table, his expression unreadable.

Mary didn't care if Dean was unhappy. Sam was her son. She had every right to spend time with him. He did not exclusively belong to Dean.

Bowing her head, Mary placed her mouth against the baby's belly, blowing a raspberry against the soft fabric of the onesie.

Sammy shrieked with laughter, kicking his legs harder as he did. Mary blew another raspberry.

Sam giggled, pursing his lips and trying to imitate her, blowing spit bubbles instead.

Just as Mary was prepared to blow another raspberry, her cell phone trilled in her pocket and she sighed.

"Damn it," she muttered and pulled the phone out, seeing that it was the Men of Letters calling.

Putting the phone to her ear, she was all business, "This is Mary."

SPN

Dean held Sammy's hand and waved goodbye as Mary left the Bunker, knowing he was being a little mean but not really caring. His mom was a big girl. She could handle it. Besides, she was the one who still wanted to work with the Men of Letters. She could tell them no at any time. Dean didn't really know why she was still in cahoots with them anyway, since Sam was the one who had originally wanted to try and do things their way and make America monster-free.

"I thought she was never going to leave," Dean told his brother, but the smile on his face disappeared.

He knew his mother loved Sam and that he shouldn't be so hard on her.

"Don't worry Sammy," he murmured, hugging his brother to his chest carefully, "She'll be back soon."

SPN

"I'm not going to use the spell," Mary told Ketch, holding the paper with the instructions written on it towards the Man of Letters.

Ketch raised an eyebrow, "That's your choice. I just thought you were tired of fighting with Dean."

"We haven't been arguing as much," Mary told him, still holding the paper out to him, "And things are okay. Maybe the worst is over. I hope it is."

Ketch reached out but instead of taking the paper, pushed it gently back towards Mary.

"Keep it," he told her, "Just in case the worst is not over."

Mary hesitated for a moment before putting the instructions back into her coat pocket.

"What're we doing today?" she asked.

Arthur Ketch smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave Kudos or a Comment if you're enjoying the story!


	11. Eleven

Dean crammed the last bite of grilled cheese sandwich into his mouth, Sam sitting in his high chair, watching him with interest.

"You hungry, buddy?" Dean asked through his mouthful of food.

Sam squealed, waving his small fists in the air.

"Let's see what we've got," Dean picked his sibling up and held him in one arm while he went into the kitchen and opened up the cupboard, searching through the jars of baby food Mary had bought.

"Hmm how about Spaghetti Bolognese?" Dean asked.

Sam blew a spit bubble against the side of his brother's neck.

"Beef stew?" Dean offered.

The baby whacked him in the face with one small hand.

"Strained leeks and potatoes?" Dean peered at the green puree in the jar and wondered who thought of making such a combination.

Sam babbled happily in Dean's ear so the hunter grabbed a bowl, dumped the gloopy mixture into it and popped it into the microwave for a couple of minutes.

Lifting his brother with both hands, Dean peered into Sam's hazel-eyed gaze.

"You know what? Sometimes I swear you can understand me."

Sammy just laughed.

The microwave beeped and Dean reached out to open the door.

'Smoke on the Water' sounded from his jean's pocket and he felt the cell phone vibrating faintly through the denim.

"Hold that thought, Sammy," Dean muttered and grabbed his phone.

Checking the called ID, his heart leaped at the name he saw there and he quickly accepted the call, pressing the phone to his ear hard.

"Cas, what've you got?"

SPN

"Dean! What are you doing here?" Mary stepped up to her sons- Sam bundled in a blanket in his older brother's arms- surprised to see them at the British Men of Letters' Head Quarters.

Something important must have brought Dean here, Mary thought, for him show up instead of just calling me.

The hunter didn't reply at first; he was watching Arthur Ketch, who was standing just behind Mary, his flat brown eyes taking in the infant in his arms with interest.

"We've gotta talk," Dean told her carefully, vaguely, "Are you almost done here?"

Mary glanced over her shoulder at Ketch but he said nothing, his facial expression betraying nothing and she nodded.

"Yeah," she told him, "Is he warm enough, Dean?"

The hunter tightened his grip on his baby brother and nodded.

The three Winchesters entered the narrow hallway and began walking towards the exit, Dean in front with Sam and Mary bringing up the rear.

"Mary!" the huntress paused at the sound of her name being called by an accented voice and she turned slightly to see Lady Bevell striding towards her down the corridor.

"Dean," Mary spoke her son's name and the hunter paused.

"Mick told me what had happened to Sam," the female Man of Letters said, smiling, her eyes on the youngest Winchester, "But until now I didn't quite believe him."

Now standing right beside Mary, Lady Bevell reached out towards the baby.

"May I?"

Dean took a step back, his expression harsh.

"Dean," Mary said, "It's okay."

"But-" he began but Lady Bevell interrupted.

"I know how to hold a baby," she chided, "I have a little boy of my own."

Dean looked to Mary, clearly seeking permission from her to tell the woman to keep her mitts off his brother but his mother did not even blink. Her eyes though, were locked on Lady Bevell.

The British Woman of Letters carefully pried Sam from Dean's grasp and cradled him to her chest.

Sam, who had had no say in the matter, stared up at Lady Bevell with wide, hazel eyes, his lower lip trembling.

The British woman smiled widely, eyeing the infant like he was a piece of meat instead of a baby. Sam, who would not or could not look away from the face hovering above his, began to whimper piteously, his eyes filling with water.

Whether Sam had retained his memories and in some capacity recalled what Lady Bevell had done to him or, that it was by the coincidence that he was approaching that age in infants when the faces of strangers cease to be a curiosity and become something to be feared, Mary didn't know.

All she did know what that the woman who had tortured her son was cradling him to her chest as though she meant to steal him away.

Mary had to physically stop herself from snatching Sam from Lady Bevell's arms.

"Okay, that's enough," Dean growled, "Give him back."

"He's fine," Lady Bevell murmured, rocking Sam even though he was crying in earnest now.

"No," Dean snapped, "He doesn't like you, he's afraid of you. Give him to me."

Lady Bevell looked up, smiling her wide smile, "Why ever wouldn't he like me?"

Dean gave the woman a look that said, 'really, bitch?'

"Come here, baby," Mary cooed and took Sam from the woman's arms.

"I wasn't hurting him," Lady Bevell argued, "I would never dream of harming an infant."

Dean turned away from her and started down the hallway, walking quickly. Mary trotted behind her eldest son to keep up with him. Sam was still crying, nearly screaming, despite the fact that his mother was carrying him away from Lady Bevell.

The look the British woman had given Sam sent chills up Mary's spine. Peering down at the baby, Mary knew she had to protect him.

She didn't know why the Lady Bevell had a renewed interest in her youngest son but frankly, she didn't want to wait around and find out.

She was going to keep him safe. And the only foolproof she knew how to do so was use the spell Ketch had given her to return Sam to his proper age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave Kudos!


	12. Twelve

Dean and Mary drove back to the Bunker as fast as they could, as though it would offer safe haven against the designs of the British Men of Letters.

Dean drove the Impala, Sam strapped into the car seat behind him. The hunter was lost in thought, not even bothering to turn on the radio.

Mary followed them in her own vehicle.

Dean gripped the steering wheel tight enough to make his fingers ache but he didn't care. He was pissed. He wasn't even thinking about why he had gone to the Men of Letters' headquarters in the first place. All that was on his mind at the moment was Lady Bevell with her hands on his brother.

He couldn't believe his mother had let that bitch hold Sammy! Didn't Mary remember what she had done to him? Did she even care?

Dean frowned. Their mom was getting too close to the Men of Letters for his taste- was already too close- and something was going to have to give.

Glancing up at his brother's image in the rearview mirror, the hunter didn't even smile at the sight of the infant gumming away on one of his feet, seeming to have forgotten all about his encounter with Lady Bevell.

W

Dean was right on Mary's heels as she unlocked the door to the Bunker and stepped inside. Carrying his brother, Dean didn't give his mother a chance to sit down before he began, snarling at her angrily.

"Why would you do that, Mom? Why would you let that woman anywhere near Sam?"

The huntress turned quickly, startled by the ferocity in her son's voice.

"Dean-" She tried to speak but he cut her off.

"After what she did to him? She shot him! She tortured him! And you were okay with letting her hold him!"

"Please, let-" Mary tried again but Dean refused to hear her out.

"Did you see the way she looked at him? You did, didn't you? Like he was a freakin' steak!"

"Stop and-" His mother demanded but Dean shook his head.

"I'm gonna put Sam down for a nap," he told her, turning his back and carrying his sibling out of the room.

Mary sighed and kicked a chair out of the way before storming into the kitchen.

SPN

Lady Bevell walked slowly down the hallway. She could still feel the warmth and weight of the infant Winchester from when she had held him. It had been a long time since her little boy had been that small, that helpless.

She thought of Dr Hess' plan.

Although the British Men of Letters were a proud people, with a long history, they were also a dying breed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to recruit members, both adult and children. Dr Hess looked at the witch's curse on Sam Winchester, not as a barrier to getting his family on board with their plans for America but a golden opportunity to add yet another lamb to their diminishing flock.

Why Sam Winchester?

As Dr Hess liked to say, if you can get them young, they'll be yours forever.

Also, she didn't like the Winchesters so anything to ruin their lives was wonderful in her books.

Getting down to business, she had told Lady Bevell that once they had Sam Winchester, it would be her mission to raise him alongside her own boy, Peter, until he was old enough to attend the Kendrick's Academy. Then, Dr Hess explained, Sam Winchester's real training would begin.

At such a young age, the hunter would have no recollection of his brother or mother and that was to their advantage. He would know nothing but Lady Bevell and the Men of Letters.

The only problem was getting rid of Mary and Dean. Despite Mary working with the Men of Letters, there was no way she would be willing to hand over her son to them. Dr Hess decided to wait and think about how to best dispose of the two elder Winchesters: perhaps a hunt went wrong or a terrible automobile accident. Whatever it was it had to be permanent.

Once Mary and Dean were gone, Lady Bevell would swoop in and rescue poor orphan Sammy Winchester and bring him home to live with her and her son.

Tori found herself smiling at the idea as she went into her office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a moment to leave Kudos or a Comment and let me know you're enjoying this story!


	13. Thirteen

"You wanted to see me?" Arthur Ketch asked as he took a seat in the chair across from Dr Hess. She was sitting at his desk, looking as though she belonged there and truth be told, it irritated him.

Dr Hess nodded, her expression severe.

"We need to get rid of the Winchesters," She told him.

Ketch raised an eyebrow, "All of them?"

Now Dr Hess gave a thin-lipped smile.

"Not all. We need Sam Winchester."

Although curious, Ketch didn't ask why. He was sure he would know Hess' plans eventually.

"And you want to get Mary and Dean out of the picture," He stated.

"Exactly," Hess confirmed.

SPN

A quiet knock at the bedroom door drew Dean's attention. Since returning to the Bunker, he had kept away from his mother. He was still angry and confused as to why she would let Lady Bevell hold Sam. So, instead of talking to his mother, he isolated himself.

Sammy lay on his back on the bed beside Dean, contentedly drooling on his fingers and kicking his legs.

"Yeah?" Dean called without taking his gaze away from his brother.

Mary poked her head into the room.

"Are you hungry? I put a pizza in the oven," she asked.

Dean shrugged.

"You go ahead," he told her, taking one of Sam's tiny, slimy hands between his thumb and forefinger, forcing the infant to begin gumming his other hand.

"Dean, what's-" Mary began but he interrupted.

"Don't act like you don't know what's wrong," he snapped.

"Why did you let that bitch touch Sammy? Don't you care that she hurt him?"

"I do," Mary replied quietly, "Believe me, it took everything I had not to grab him back from her but…"

She paused, "But we- I'm- working with them and I couldn't say no. It wasn't like she was going to vanish with him, Dean."

"You could have said no. I'm sure she'd understand where you're coming from," Dean replied sarcastically.

Mary sighed, "I know you don't like this but…"

"But what?" Dean asked.

"They are trying to do something good, Dean. Don't you want to have a normal life? Don't you want Sam to have a normal life?"

The hunter turned away from her so she couldn't see his face.

"Even Sam worked with them, until…" Mary began, "After Lady Bevell tortured him."

Dean didn't respond for a moment, "That was Sam's choice. He knew I hated it… I think he did too… but it wasn't just about him… he was thinking about what it would mean for everyone else… not having monsters…"

Mary raked one hand through her blonde hair, "I know the Men of Letters aren't our biggest fans but we can at least be civil to one another."

"Hm," Dean grunted.

"Why did you come see me anyway?" Mary asked, changing the subject.

"Cas thinks he found Kelly," Dean told her, "He said he'd call when he made contact with her."

"That's good isn't' it?" Mary asked, glad to have a different topic of conversation to focus on.

Dean nodded. He just hoped that they'd be able to get rid of Lucifer Jr. in time. He wished he could be there to help his friend but the need to be with his sibling overruled that desire. Cas could take care of himself. Sam was defenceless. He needed someone to keep him safe and since their Mom went off to hang out with her new friends every couple of days, Dean was the only one who could.

When Dean didn't add anything more to the conversation, Mary took that as a sign that she should leave.

Closing her son's door, she headed down the hallway, towards the kitchen and the scent of baking pizza.

W

Mary ground her teeth when her phone trilled a ringtone and vibrated in her pocket. Sitting her uneaten slice of pizza back onto her saucer, Mary pulled the cell from her pocket.

The Caller ID showed 'Unknown' and the huntress frowned before bringing the phone to her ear.

"Mary, do you still have the spell I gave you?"

"Arthur? Why are you calling me?" Mary asked in confusion. Normally if the Men of Letters wanted to get ahold of her, she'd hear from Mick, not Arthur Ketch.

"Tell me you didn't destroy the spell," he insisted, ignoring her question.

"No… what's going on?" she asked, confused. Why did he care so much about the age progression spell he had given her? What was going on?

"I'm not doing this for your family," he ignored her again as though she hadn't spoken, "I hate Bevell and any failure of hers gives me great pleasure. Also, Hess' has her head so far up that bitch's ass she-"

"I can't stay on the phone, Dean's just in the other room. Tell me what this is about," Mary snapped.

"Hess and Lady Bevell are planning on taking Sam to England. Raise him as one of us."

"That's never going to happen," Mary snarled.

"You won't have much choice in the matter. You and Dean will be dead," Ketch replied and Mary's heart sank.

"What?"

"Hess told me what she intends to do," Ketch explained, "And she wants me to kill you and Dean."

Mary said nothing for a long time, her brain struggling to process what she was being told.

"The spell…" Ketch prompted.

"I have it."

"Than use it. Now. And foil their plans," he encouraged, as far as he would ever get to begging.

"I have to wait until Dean leaves, I… can't tell him…"

"Just do it soon, whatever you do."

Mary nodded, feeling numb. Her baby boy was in danger.

"One more thing," Ketch added, "The spell will only work once so you need to be sure you have enough time to get all the way through it. But I'm sure a smart girl like you already knew that."

Mary didn't. She swore under her breath and heard nothing but a dial tone coming through the phone.

Just then, Dean stepped into the room, holding Sam in his arms.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked, eyeing her piece of pizza, clearly hoping there was more.

Mary ended the call, trying not to look guilty.

"Wrong number."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments are greatly appreciated!


	14. Fourteen

Mary lay awake that night when she should have been asleep. But she was unable to rest.

Ketch's words echoed in her mind. She needed to return Sam to his proper age, and quickly. There was no way she would let Lady Bevell take Sam away from her.

Deciding that sleep was going to elude her for the rest of the night, Mary sat up and took the words to the spell from where she had hidden them inside her boot, underneath the insole.

Carefully unfolding the piece of paper, Mary read and re-read the words a half a dozen times before slipping it into the pocket of her jeans. Standing, she made up her mind: she would perform the spell today. No more hesitating, no more waiting. Arthur Ketch's warning had cemented the currency of the matter and forced her to stop with her wavering.

Walking from her room, Mary was of a mind to prepare the ingredients she could gather- the baby's breath, candles and thyme- and figure out a way to get Dean out of the Bunker for at least an hour or two.

W

Mary wiped her hands together and peered down at the small collection of ingredients set out before her: the candles had been easy enough to find, and the thyme but the baby's breath had been a bit more challenging. The Men of Letters had a plethora of preserved herbs and spices used in spellwork and magic-making- it seemed as though they had been researching their properties and recording their uses by witches, and it was simply by dumb luck that the huntress found a small glass vial of dried baby's breath hidden among the collection in the dungeon.

She didn't know if the baby's breath or thyme needed to be fresh- Ketch hadn't specified- but Mary wasn't going to worry over something so petty. Besides, she didn't have much time to get fresh if the Man of Letters was telling the truth and they were putting their plans for Sam into action.

Standing in the kitchen, Mary took a carton of eggs from the fridge, not even hungry, and stared at it for a long moment, still trying to figure out how to get Dean to leave her and the baby alone.

Then, bringing the eggs to the sink, Mary dumped them and turned on the water, washing them down the drain. Next, she slashed open all the bags of milk and they followed the eggs.

Pausing, knowing it wouldn't take Dean long to get some milk and eggs- he could just stop at any nearby gas station, Mary opened every bottle of beer she could find and disposed of them as well.

Finally, the mustard, ketchup, barbeque and hot sauce, mayonnaise, and relish went into the sink, only to disappear moment later down the drain.

Mary turned off the water and took a piece of paper from the pad in one of drawers, writing down all the items she had just gotten rid of so Dean could pick them up at the grocery store in town.

W

Hours later, when Dean entered the kitchen, looking tired and hungry, Sam cradled in his arms, Mary was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and eating a piece of toast and peanut butter.

"Can you pick these things up, Sweetheart? We seemed to have gone through them faster than expected," Mary asked Dean, holding out the list she had made.

Taking the piece of paper from his mother, Dean's eyes widened, "There's no way we're out of all of this!"

Handing his brother off to Mary, he searched the fridge and cupboards, only to find that they, in fact needed all the items on her list.

Scratching his head, Dean shrugged, "Can I at least have breakfast first?"

Mary smiled tightly but nodded. Sam gurgled happily in her arms and kicked his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait for this update, my muse seemed to have abandoned me for a few of my stories and I just haven't felt the desire to write for a few months. I am tentatively going to get back to writing all my WOP but please be patient with me. I will do my best to update more regularly.
> 
> Please leave Kudos or a Comment if you're enjoying this story!


	15. Chapter 15

Mary watched as the Impala pulled out of the driveway and onto the highway, moving slowly at first but then picking up speed until it was just a black speck in the distance, heading towards the town of Lebanon, Kansas a half-an-hour away.

Holding Sam with one arm, the huntress closed and locked the door to the bunker.

Dean had wanted to take his brother with him but Mary had argued against it. Sammy hadn't had any breakfast and he'd only be cranky while in the grocery store. Eventually Dean had relented and left his sibling with their mother, driving out alone.

Even though Mary knew she had at least an hour to perform the spell and return her youngest son to his correct age, she didn't want to waste any time and walked through the main room of the bunker and towards the dungeon.

Sam gurgled in her arms, kicking his legs and fussing, hungry.

"How about I make you pancakes when Dean gets back with the groceries?" Mary cooed to the baby, "He says they're your favourite."

Sam blinked at Mary and shoved his fingers into his mouth.

W

Mary peered down at her youngest son lying on his back on the cold concrete floor of the dungeon. The three white candles had been lit and were in place, held to the ground by melted wax; one above Sam's head and two at his feet.

The huntress held the dried herbs in one hand and the paper with the incantation in the other. She had a small, sharp dagger in her pocket, ready to use it when she needed it.

Taking a deep breath, Mary began speaking the first part of the incantation.

Pausing, her heart pounding, the mother reached out with one hand and burnt the thyme and baby's breath, creating a pungent smoke, which she wafted over her infant son.

Sam wriggled, uncomfortable and whimpered.

"Hold on Sammy," Mary murmured, "It'll be over soon."

Pulling the dagger out of her pocket, the huntress wrapped a hand firmly but gently around her son's arm, turning the baby's palm upwards.

With her free hand, Mary lifted the incantation to her eyes and read the second part and drew the dagger across Sam's small hand, a line of crimson blood welling up instantly. The baby began crying, kicking his legs and trying to get away. Turning the baby's hand palm down, drops of blood began to fall on the concrete; one… two… three… four…

SPN

Dean couldn't believe they were out of so many groceries. It seemed as though they had just bought the items his mother said they were now in dire need of. He didn't know why they couldn't wait but Mary had insisted he go out.

"Whatever," Dean muttered mutinously, "I don't really care."

Reaching out to turn on the stereo, the hunter frowned and stopped, instead shoving his hand into the pocket of his jeans instead.

"Shit," he growled. He'd left his wallet at home.

Pulling a U-Turn, Dean sped back to the Bunker, his mood foul.

Running back into the Bunker, Dean began, "Hey, Mom, I'm back, I forgot my-"

He paused, peering into the Bunker's main room where minutes ago his mother and brother had been.

"Mom?" he called, a creeping suspicion tingling up his spine that something was wrong, "Mom!"

He crossed the room quickly, the silence striking him as foreboding.

Relax, he thought. Mom said she wanted to give Sammy breakfast. They're just in the kitchen. Grab your wallet and get the damn groceries.

But Dean didn't head to his room where his wallet was no doubt sitting on the bedside table where he'd left it the night before. His feet began moving, taking steps as though they had a mind of their own and he walked towards the kitchen.

Expecting to hear Sam's burbling noises or Mary's cooing, Dean was surprised when he peered into the room and found it empty. His mother's cup of coffee sitting half-finished on the table, her saucer with a toast crust and peanut butter crumbs nearby.

"Mom?" Dean called, turning and walking down the hallway, picking up his pace, "Mom? Sam?"

He headed back to his bedroom in case Mary had decided to put Sam down for a nap but the crib beside his bed was just as he had left it that morning.

"Where are you two?" Dean muttered and took the stairs, heading into the lower levels of the Bunker.

He paused when he reached the bottom of the steps. Down here there was nothing much of interest; a library, a room that contained shelves upon shelves of dried and jarred specimens that gave the hunter the heebie-jeebies, and, down yet another set of stairs, hidden behind a thick metal door, the dungeon.

Instead of looking in the specimen rooms, Dean headed straight down the hallway towards the dungeon. He had no idea why his mother would take his brother down there but something told him that was where they were. He saw that the door was unlocked and pulled it open with little difficulty- to him, it wasn't that heavy- and pale, yellow light washed over him.

"Mom?" he asked and stood at the top of the metal stairs.

For a moment he heard nothing, but then his mother's voice rose up to him, speaking quickly, chanting almost, words that were not English. A thin cry also floated up- an infant in distress- and Dean bounded down the steps, taking two at a time.

"MOM!" Dean shouted at the sight before him. Mary was kneeling on the concrete floor, illuminated by three white candles burning around her infant son, a dagger lying on the floor beside her. The huntress gripped the baby's hand tightly, letting drops of blood to fall freely onto the floor.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, eyes wide.

"Listen, I-" Mary began but her eldest interrupted, "What the hell are you doing?"

Dean started forward, not wanting to listen to anything his mother had to say. She was hurting his brother and he needed to stop her.

"Dean, please-" she tried again and released her hold on Sam's arm to hold her hand out towards her elder son.

Neither of them noticed that Sam had stopped crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos or a comment.


	16. Chapter 16

Dean shoved Mary roughly out of the way, knocking the candles over as he rushed to his brother.

But the baby was no longer there. Instead, a child of about four or five lay naked on the concrete floor, blood from the cut on his palm leaking sluggishly.

"Sam?" Dean knelt down and lifted the child, "Sammy?"

Bowing his head, the hunter brought his ear to the child's mouth, feeling warm breath on his cheek and relaxed somewhat.

"Dean, will you let me explain?" Mary asked from behind him but the hunter ignored her, standing, cradling his brother in his arms he turned and started for the stairs.

"Dean!" Mary called, remaining at the bottom of the staircase as Dean climbed, not looking back at her.

"It's okay, Sammy," he murmured to his brother, "I've got you."

He walked until he reached his bedroom and laid his brother on his bed, covering him with a blanket. The boy looked just like Sam when he was little; his cheeks still chubby with baby fat, his dark hair curly.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and brushed his brother's bangs back. Slowly, the closed eyelids fluttered before going still again.

"Dean," Mary, having followed her sons, spoke from the doorway, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Dean didn't respond, he kept his gaze fixed on the child lying in his bed.

"I was just trying to protect Sam," Mary told him, "Ketch said-"

Dean whirled around upon hearing that name, "What?"

He snarled, "What did he say? Did he have something to do with this? Huh? Did he?"

Mary did not hesitate. She nodded.

"He gave me the spell," she told Dean boldly.

Dean scoffed, "And you fell for it like a rookie."

"Dean!" Mary snapped.

"I'm not stupid," he told her, "I see the way you two look at each other."

His mother didn't know what to say for a moment but then retaliated, "That's neither here nor there. What's important is that Sam's protected. Ketch was trying to help us, Dean."

Dean shook his head, turned back to his brother.

"He told me that Lady Bevell was going to take Sam away," Mary continued, speaking to the back of her eldest son's head, "That she was going to raise him as her own. That we were going to be killed."

"I'd never let that happen," Dean growled.

His mother continued as though he hadn't spoken.

"So Ketch gave me the spell to return Sam to his proper age. So he wouldn't be useful to them anymore."

"Why didn't Crowley or Rowena do anything? When we asked them for help? Surely they knew about the spell?"

Mary sighed and put a hand on her son's shoulder, only to have it shrugged away. She let her hand fall down to her side.

"They're not exactly our friends, are they?"

Dean chuckled humourlessly, "And Ketch is?"

Mary had no reply to that.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the spell," she admitted, "I… I should have… but I thought…"

"You thought I'd try and stop you?" Dean asked, turning around to face her.

Mary nodded.

"Yeah, because it's dangerous," Dean told her, "We don't know Ketch from a hole in the ground and now you're taking advice from him? What if it was a trap? What if it's made things worse now? Did you even think of that?"

Mary, feeling her eyes prick with tears, shook her head.

"I had to try something!" She snapped, angry at Dean for not understanding why she trusted Ketch, angry at herself for crying now… for being weak.

"I didn't see you doing anything to try and fix this!" She snapped.

"Because a demon, a witch and an angel all told us it was impossible!" Dean shouted, standing up and seeming to tower over his mother in his rage, "They told us it would be dangerous to try and fix it! And what did you do? You went behind my back, behind Sam's back and used a spell some shady asshole gave you!"

Mary raised a hand and slapped Dean across the face. Hard.

Both hunters stood in shocked silence for a moment before Dean made the first move; he grabbed Mary by the upper arms and began pushing her out of his room.

"Get out," he said quietly, "Just get out. I don't care where you go."

Once Mary was over the threshold, Dean slammed the bedroom door shut in her face and locked it.

Not even pausing to listen if his mother was walking away, he returned to his bed and sat down beside his sibling, not even feeling the sting of the smack against his cheek.

He didn't tell Mary but he was terrified. Terrified Ketch had somehow tricked her, had somehow hurt Sammy- who still hadn't woken up- and now they were left worse off than when they had started.

"Please be okay, Sammy," Dean murmured and brushed his brother's bangs away from his face again, "Please be okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos or a comment would be greatly appreciated.


	17. Chapter 17

Mary did as her son wanted and left. She didn't take the Impala- she didn't have the keys to her late husband's car anyway- or her own vehicle- she didn't want to drive right now- and instead walked down the road.

She didn't care where she went, as long as she continued moving. Her entire body was thrumming with hurt and anger and fear.

She wanted to grab Dean and shake him, make him understand why she'd done what she'd done, despite all the risks. She had only been trying to protect her baby. No less than what he would do.

But what if he was right and Ketch had had ulterior motives for giving her the spell? What if he had lied to her and was actually working with Ladies Hess and Bevell to get Sam?

A lump formed in her throat and threatened to be released as a sob of frustration.

The sudden ringing of her cell phone made Mary stop and fish the phone from the pocket of her jeans, thinking maybe it was Dean calling to apologize to her.

"Did the spell work?" Ketch's voice answered instead of her son's.

For a moment Mary did not say anything but then nodded, replying.

"Yes… I don't know."

"Did it work or didn't it?" the British Man of Letters asked in a condescending tone, "Surely that is not a difficult question to answer."

"Dean…" Mary began but paused when the lump in her throat throbbed painfully, "He stopped me. But… I think it worked. Sam was older…"

"How old?" Ketch asked, "Is he an adult again?"

"No," Mary answered, "No, he's still a little boy. About Dean's age when I died."

Ketch didn't speak for a long moment.

"Are you still there?" Mary asked. She stepped closer to the trees on the side of the road as a transport truck blew by her, the gust of wind that followed her buffeting her to one side.

"Does he remember who he is?"

"I don't know," Mary replied, "He's unconscious."

"You aren't with him?" Ketch asked, sounding surprised.

"No," the huntress admitted, "Dean wasn't happy about the spell. We… we had a fight and I left."

There was a noise on the other end of the phone that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

"Why don't you come here?" Ketch suggested.

"And do what?" Mary asked.

"At least you'll have someone on your side," the British Man of Letters told her.

Mary turned around to face the direction of the Bunker.

"I really should go back," she hesitated.

"Sounds to me like Dean needs to cool down right now," Ketch told her, "And you could use some support."

Mary raised her free hand and ran her fingers through her long hair- the same tic Dean had when he was nervous or indecisive- and sighed.

"Okay," Mary acquiesced.

Maybe if she went to the Men of Letters' headquarters she could find out more about their plans for Sam.

Ending the call with Ketch, Mary picked up her pace and started back towards the Bunker, checking she had the keys to her car so she wouldn't have to go inside and possibly face Dean. She didn't think she could that right now anyway.

SPN

Dean stared at his cell phone in his hands. He had taken it out with the intention of calling Mary but then stopped. He didn't want to talk to her, not really. He was still angry with her for sneaking around. But he felt bad for pushing her away. She had only been trying to help Sam; he knew that, even if she had gone about it the wrong way.

A stirring from the figure on the bed dashed any thought of calling Mary from Dean's mind and he leaned forward.

"Sammy," Dean murmured, "Hey, Sammy, are you okay?"

Two hazel eyes opened halfway, glassy, dazed and rolled in their sockets.

"Sammy," Dean said again, frowning.

The eyes closed again but the mouth opened ever so slightly.

"D'n?"

"I'm right here, Sammy," Dean whispered, "I'm here."

The boy on the bed shuddered and the hunter reached forward, fearing his sibling was having some kind of seizure but then the child raised himself on his elbows and peeled his eyes open again.

Hazel eyes met green ones, sharp and clear.

"What… what happened?" Sam asked, frowning, "Why am I in your room?"

Dean smiled.

Sam glanced down, his eyes widening, then he lifted the blankets before quickly dropping them.

"Why am I naked?"

"What do you remember?" Dean asked, trying not to notice the two red spots that appeared on Sam's cheeks.

"We were hunting a witch," Sam answered slowly, "And right before we killed her she started mumbling these words… maybe an incantation… and then we came back to the Bunker and… and…"

Sam frowned, "Everything kind of... goes weird…"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I didn't black out but… all I remember are colours and smells and sounds and…" Sam shook his head and then looked down at himself.

"I'm a little kid," he said without much surprise in his voice.

"Yeah, well," Dean hesitated, "Long story short, you were a baby at first and then Mom had this spell to try and bring you to your proper age but… but it didn't work."

He was not going to tell his brother he had interrupted the spell.

Sam looked up at Dean, panic in his eyes.

"I can't stay like this! I have to change back!"

"I think you're kinda cute as a little kid," Dean chuckled; trying to lighten the mood, incredibly relieved his brother- for the most part- was all right.

Sam flung the blankets off- now was not the time to be shy- and jumped out of bed.

"We have to do it again," he insisted, "We'll get Mom and have her do the spell again."

Dean hesitated, torn between the seriousness of the situation and the humour of seeing his four-year-old brother standing in his birthday suit in front of him.

"She's, uh, out right now," Dean told his brother, his anger towards their mother once again rising up inside him.

"Then we can do it ourselves," Sam insisted, padding in his bare feet to the bedroom door.

"Sam, wait," Dean reached out a put a hand on his sibling's narrow shoulder.

"What?" Sam asked, hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Dean didn't want to tell his brother he didn't know how to perform the spell.

"Let's wait until Mom get's back," Dean told his brother, "She can help us out."

Sam pushed his bottom lip out in a pout, looking very much like a Kindergartener.

"Dean," he whined, "Please, I can't stay like this."

"I know, Sam," Dean said, "We'll get this fixed."

"But, ah, let's find you something to wear in the meantime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are love.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first de-aged story. Please be kind and leave kudos or a positive comment if you are enjoying it!


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